The Black Books
by Orca-Song
Summary: The year is 4E 201, and the First Dragonborn plots his return to Tamriel. But how did Miraak come to serve Hermaeus Mora to begin with? Our tale begins with Miraak's arrival in Apocrypha. Open each of the mysterious Black Books to learn of his past, before the arrival of the False Dragonborn, and discover what made him into the man faced at the summit of Apocrypha.


Waking Dreams of a Starless Sky

By Bilius Felcrex

 _The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead. First-_

Miraak awoke from the dream with a start, cutting off the words that had just been filling his mind and forcing them down to a faint, unintelligible whisper that gradually ebbed away into nothingness. His vision was slow to return; at first, he feared he had become blind. Soon, however, light began to shine through the narrow slits in his bronze mask. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision faster.

At long last, his eyes came into focus. He stared upward in confusion for a time. A viridescent sky stretched out above him. Strange, dark globs hung in the green expanse, with writhing tentacles that groped at the air. Old, weathered pages from ancient tomes occasionally fell through the air like sparse snow flurries.

"What…is this place?" he choked out at last.

"I should think that you would be able to recognize the plane of Oblivion belonging to me, hmm, Miraak?"

The man jumped, startled by the voice. It was slow and deliberate, as though each word was being carefully thought out. Yes, he knew that voice.

Miraak gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. Now that he was becoming more aware, he realized that an agonizing pain was creeping over him, stemming from several bruises and lacerations on his body. Once he was sitting up, he could see the source of the voice: a grotesque, dark green mass of tentacles, covered in amber eyes, with one larger eye bearing a double pupil in the center. Miraak's own eyes grew wide behind his mask.

"My... My Lord-!" Miraak attempted to bow to the creature, only to aggravate a deep wound on his belly in the process. He grunted and placed his hand over the rip in his hunter green robes. The brown leather gloves that covered his forearms began to stain with fresh blood.

"Ah-ah, easy now, Miraak. I may have saved you from certain death, but you are still far from ready to move around so much," the beast chided.

"I…am sorry, Lord Hermaeus…" Miraak muttered through gritted teeth.

"No need to apologize, my champion," Hermaeus replied. "You are here now, and you are safe."

Miraak nodded slowly. He called upon his magicka reserves, and a golden aura enveloped his hand. Healing magic began to flow through the wound, closing the severed veins and arteries that leaked his precious lifeblood. It wasn't long, however, before his arcane reservoir ran dry, and the glow around his hand dissipated.

"You are out of magicka. That is what got you in this position in the first place. Do you not remember?" Hermaeus asked.

Miraak had to think back for a moment before his memories returned to him. Now he could remember: he, like many men, had grown weary of being ruled by draconian overlords. He had been plotting with Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Forbidden Knowledge, to overthrow the winged beasts when that blasted fool, Vahlok, confronted him about his betrayal.

The details afterward were, unfortunately, quite hazy. Vahlok and Miraak were both incredibly gifted in the arcane arts. He remembered flashes of fire and lightning, the clash of sword against sword, the crash of ice spikes shattering against stone. Most of all, he remembered the ear-piercing screech and the violent trembling beneath his feet as the very earth was torn asunder by the force of the two quarreling dragon priests.

And for what? The dragons were not worth defending so vigorously. They were a treasure trove of power, ripe for the taking. Vahlok did not have the same ability Miraak had, to take the very soul of a dragon and use it to gain strength. He simply did not understand, the poor fetcher.

"I am admittedly impressed," Hermaeus said, interrupting Miraak's thoughts. "Between the two of you, you were able to rip an entire mass of land away from the mainland of Skyrim. You've created a new island."

"A new island, you say? That is impressive, isn't it?" Miraak agreed. He may have lost the fight, but he was proud of himself nonetheless.

At that moment, two more of Hermaeus' servants arrived. The creatures levitated up to their master, their octopus-like tentacles swaying beneath their bodies. One stretched out its two pairs of thin, withered arms, holding bandages and a small wooden bowl with a green paste inside. The other clutched something close to its body within the folds of its tattered robes as it awaited its turn to present its item.

Miraak recognized the beasts instantly. They were Seekers, inhabitants of the plane of Apocrypha and loyal servants of Hermaeus Mora. He had been taught to summon them when he became the Daedra's champion. They were bizarre, but they were surprisingly intelligent and useful.

The thick tentacles on the face of the first Seeker wiggled slightly as it spoke in some foreign tongue to Hermaeus. The Daedra took the supplies from it and held them out to Miraak. "Here, a healing salve and some gauze. I trust you can take care of yourself."

"Of course. Thank you, my Lord." Miraak gratefully took the items and began to apply the herb paste.

"I also have one other gift for you."

Miraak paused to look up at his master. "What is it, Lord Hermaeus?"

The Daedra flicked a tentacle, indicating for the other Seeker to come forth. It did just that, and finally presented the item in its hands: a large iron skeleton key, weathered and darkened with age.

Miraak blinked curiously at the item. "A key? What does it unlock, my Lord?"

"What, indeed?" Hermaeus replied slyly. "You like to research and discover things for yourself, do you not? Think of this as a fun little puzzle to keep you entertained for a bit while you are here."

Miraak eyed the key inquisitively for a moment longer before tentatively reaching out and taking it from the Seeker. "Aye, as you say. Thank you, my Lord."

"There is one last thing I would like to mention to you," Hermaeus added before his champion could wonder too much about the key's purpose. Miraak turned his gaze to the Daedra. "The two dragons that came to assist that other priest, they are also here."

"Relonikiv and Kruziikrel? Where are they?" Miraak couldn't help but glance around as he inquired. With but a few words, he could get rid of this grievous gash in his belly, provided there was a dragon around.

"They fled deep into Apocrypha. They were eager to finish what they had started, but—" Hermaeus chuckled. "—their courage left them once they realized just where they were, and with whom they would need to fight to get to you."

"I see…" That was disappointing. Miraak would have benefited from taking the flying monsters' power for himself. _At least now I will have time to prepare should I come across them again_ , he reasoned with himself.

"If you happen to find them, they should make good practice for some of the spells I've taught you, hmm?" Hermaeus suggested, as if reading his champion's thoughts.

"Yes, absolutely. Practicing on them sounds like a sufficiently humiliating punishment for their aggression," Miraak agreed.

"Just so. Now, I have other matters to attend to. I have given a few of the other Seekers the task of preparing you a living space. These two will take you there when you are ready."

The man nodded. "Thank you, my Lord. You are most gracious. I will never forget what you have done for me this day."

This seemed to amuse the Daedra. "No, I should think not. Farewell for now, Miraak. I will come to see how you are doing at a later time." And then the mass of tentacles drifted away into his realm, most likely to sort some new piece of knowledge into its place in his library.

Miraak watched Hermaeus leave, then returned his attention to the key in his hand. What could it be for? What secrets might it unlock? Hermaeus' lair was full of forbidden knowledge. Could it be a new spell? A weapon, mayhap? Only time would tell.

Once he had bandaged the worst of his injuries, Miraak slowly got to his feet, placing the key in a pocket on the inside of his robes. The Seekers grunted something to him in their odd tongue, presumably telling him to follow them, and then floated off down one of the several cobblestone paths around them. Miraak hobbled after the creatures, which were, thankfully, not terribly quick.

Despite his injuries, Miraak perked up with curiosity as they began making their way through his new home. He looked around with all the wonder of a young child crossing into a new province, soaking in every detail like a sponge.

The first thing he noticed was that Apocrypha was, quite literally, made of the knowledge that Hermaeus Mora had collected. The pathway they were on was made of gray stone, as were many of the gates and walls, but that was simply the backbone that allowed the realm to be fleshed out by texts. Out in the distance, spires of books rose out of the dark, murky water that surrounded the platform they stood on. Scattered pages, writing of various languages scrawled across them, littered the path like autumn leaves, rustling under Miraak's feet as he walked.

Before long, the Seekers came up to a wrought iron gate that, like the other gates and metal architecture in the land, was made up of circular shapes that were welded together. The creatures opened the gate, which led into a tunnel with tall, vaulted ceilings. Miraak eyed the walls of the tunnel inquisitively as he entered. Not surprisingly, the walls were comprised of books stacked like bricks, and even the archways of the tunnel were actually one long stack of tomes that spanned from one side of the path, up overhead, and down to the floor on the other side.

The next thing Miraak noticed was that nearly everything within Apocrypha was some shade of green. The odd little bioluminescent pods that lit the tunnel were a bright lime green, the Seekers were a darker hunter color, the same as Hermaeus Mora. When they stepped back out into the open air, Miraak looked up and saw that the sky appeared to have a chartreuse haze over it. Even his own robes, he realized, matched the hues of this world. He supposed it would be a welcome change from the snowy expanses of northern Skyrim, where everything was gray and white.

Not that it mattered much to him, of course. His days were typically spent inside studying new spells and gaining new knowledge. The weather outside was irrelevant in most cases, although he did wonder for a moment if there was such a thing as weather in Apocrypha.

At long last, the Seekers stopped at another gate. One of the Daedra extended its two left arms and grunted to Miraak, indicating for him to open it. Miraak approached the barrier and pushed it open. The gate creaked as it swung inward.

Unlike the first gate, this one led to a spacious, circular room, large enough to house a dragon and still have plenty of space to maneuver around in. Miraak assumed that the room was made of stone, as that was what the ceiling was built of, but the walls were piled so high with worn books that he could not be certain.

On the far wall, directly across from the gate, was a luxurious canopy bed, certainly a fitting place for the champion of a Daedric Prince to rest his head. A large pod, about three feet tall and perhaps four across, rested on the floor at the foot of the bed. To the left of the bed was a small nightstand. To the right, a wash basin with an oval-shaped mirror hung over it. The mirror was bordered with wrought iron that was intricately decorated with the twisting, intertwining tentacles that so often reoccurred in this land. A wooden tub rested beside the basin. A fish-like face, carved from gray stone, protruded out from a space in the books on the wall just above the tub, its mouth gaping wide open and exposing two rows of tiny stone teeth. A lever was built into the wall beside the face, leading Miraak to believe that it was some sort of water pump, with the fish's mouth being the spout.

Next to that was a wooden staff propped against the wall, also carved with that ever-popular tentacle motif, that he recognized as his own weapon. _I must have dropped it after the fight_ , Miraak thought. He was glad that it had been retrieved for him.

To the left of the bed, against the wall, was a wide wooden writing desk with several drawers and compartments for storing texts and writing supplies. Another one of the small glowing orbs, identical to the ones from the tunnel, was set on the left-hand corner to provide more light for reading, and a larger one in the center of the ceiling illuminated the rest of the room.

All in all, it was a nice living area. Perhaps it was more space than he needed, but it was suitable nonetheless.

Miraak turned back to the doorway. The two Seekers still hovered there by the gate, most likely waiting to see if he found the quarters satisfactory. He nodded to the creatures. "I do not need anything else at the moment. Thank you." The Seekers returned the nod and muttered something in their language, then left the priest alone.

A heavy sigh escaped Miraak once the Seekers were gone. His excitement was beginning to wear off, and exhaustion was creeping into his battered body once more. He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, then took the iron key out of his pocket. Whatever lay on the other side of the door or inside the chest it unlocked, it must have been powerful. Or, so the man liked to think. Why else would Hermaeus have given it to him? He was anxious to go out searching for this item.

But for now, the man had to rest. He leaned over and gently set the key down on the nightstand next to the bed, then unbuckled his sword from his hip, set it on the floor next to him, and lay himself down on the bed. Perhaps it was because he was so tired, but this bed seemed exceptionally comfortable. Within seconds he was fast asleep, having not even bothered to remove his boots or his mask.

( **A/N:** Here's my first real attempt at writing fan fiction, so please be gentle with me. As I'm not entirely sure on all my details yet, this will probably be slow-going, and I may make changes to existing chapters here and there. In any case, I hope you enjoy what I have in store! Sky above, Voice within, friends.)


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